


No More

by Chrimson_Bonez



Category: Ancient Egyptian RPF, Ancient History RPF
Genre: Ancient Egypt, Ancient History, Ancient Rome, Angst, F/M, I Tried, I just kinda wanted to post this somewhere, Snakes, but hey, does it count as fan fiction?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-27 02:21:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12571592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chrimson_Bonez/pseuds/Chrimson_Bonez
Summary: They lost.





	No More

**Author's Note:**

> Does this even count as a fan fiction??? Since it's based on history and all... I was just pretty satisfied with this and wanted to post it somewhere. I tried to stay as accurate as I could based on my research, but I wasn't sure how to write Cleopatra exactly. I always imagined her as a serious leader, someone who desires power, who cares about her people, but also able to succumb to her heart and feelings in extreme situations.
> 
> Every week in class, we write a story based on a prompt from the book 642 Things to Write About. The prompt I used to write this was "Write from the perspective of a historical figure like Franklin Roosevelt, Marilyn Monroe, or Jack the Ripper." Constructive criticism is always welcomed.

The flames of several lit torches licked the stone walls as I briskly walked down the long hallway, one of my many servants following me closely. A shiver ran down my spine, but it wasn’t from the cool desert wind that blew in. No, it was from anger and rage, and perhaps a touch of fear, though that was a detail my servant did not need to know. I was unbreakable to my people. A goddess. A pharaoh.

            “Tell me,” I say flatly, “Have the arrangements been made? All of them?” I pause for a brief moment to turn and face the servant. She nods.

            “Y-Yes, your highness,” she answered, “Everything should go according to your plans. Your basket of figs should be there upon your arrival.”

            “Good,” I respond, and then we continue our final march together. Finally, after what felt like ages had passed, we reach my final destination; a large wooden door. Even though I knew that I would never step out of this room again, for a moment, I felt at peace. The same could not be said for my servant, however.

            “Must you do this,” she sniffled, “Why… why does this have to end like this…” I turn back to her, and I see her tears highlighted in the silver moonlight. She always was a sensitive girl. I sighed, and gently placed my hand on her shoulder.

            “Antony and I… have lost,” I admit with gritted teeth, “We failed, and Antony is no more. I have no reason to live without him by my side.”

            “But we need you,” the girl wailed, “What will become of Egypt without you leading the way?! What… what will happen to me…?” I shook my head.

            “Egypt deserves a strong ruler, someone who can protect the people. I trust Caesarion will lead them to glory,” I explain, “As for you… follow my children to Rome… find them, and find Octavia.”

            “Lord Antony’s wife?” I could feel my calm demeanor crack at the mention of my love’s true spouse, but I did my best to remain cool and collected. After all, she wasn’t the one he had three children with. She wasn’t the one he died for.

            “Yes,” I mutter, “Yes, her. Tell them that you are to be the children’s personal maid. You will be protected then.” The girl nods, tears still running down her cheeks. As I turn away from her and begin to open the door, I hear her say her final goodbye.

            “Farwell, Queen Cleopatra.”

            I close the door behind me, and I spot the figs I had requested waiting for me on the table. Yes, everything is going exactly as I had wanted. I am a pharaoh, after all. I always get my way. I reach into the basket, and I nudge one of the pieces of fruit aside to reveal a hissing cobra patiently waiting for me.


End file.
